


Darkstache Week 2019

by gottawriteanegoortwo



Series: Darkstache [1]
Category: Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merfolk, Fluff, M/M, Timeline Shenanigans, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, internalised homophobia in second chapter, just two strange dudes living their best lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25768144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottawriteanegoortwo/pseuds/gottawriteanegoortwo
Summary: Darkstache Week - an entire week hosted by projectdarkstache on Tumblr dedicated to the ship that is Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache.Information for the week prompts for 2019 can be found here.
Relationships: Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache
Series: Darkstache [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869343
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	1. Day One: Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Every November, Dark takes a week off. This year, Wilford gets to go with him. Both are reminded that even love can be cold if it’s meaningful.

When November rolled in, Dark would take a week off and travel out of town. No one knew where he went, until the year he asked Wilford to accompany him. While Wilford had expected a trip to Florida (don’t cold creatures migrate south for the winter?), a cabin near the Rockies was on the bottom of his list of his predictions.

The cabin was part of a campsite, but far enough away to give a sense of isolation from the families and college students in the other cabins. It was postcard perfect, including the snow lazily drifting down. Wilford hesitated by the door, using the moment to take the sight in. It was beautiful, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“Will?” A voice stirred him from his thoughts, but the touch made Wilford yelp in surprise. Dark, equally startled, immediately pulled his hand back with a look of regret. A quick apology was given, and Wilford was left alone.

Dark was cold to the touch. That wasn’t new. However, Dark’s hand was _ice_. As long as the pair had been together (admittedly, not that long), Dark was never that cold. Was it the result of being somewhere colder than usual? Wilford was used to having that cold hand in his, and had become fond of cuddling his favourite ice cube. The cold wasn’t an issue, yet why did the surprise upset Dark? He didn’t have a chance to ask when the entity made a comment about Wilford losing his nose if he closed the door.

As the pair unpacked and a tour was given, Wilford noticed that Dark kept his hands behind his back, much like how they were before they became a couple. Professional, curt, polite… hiding the truth. Wilford tried to reach out, an attempt to show that it was okay, but Dark moved aside. Guilt began prodding at Wilford like someone was trying to put as many cocktail sticks into his arms as physically possible. He wanted to apologise, but he could tell talking about it was the last Dark wanted to do.

Trust him to accidentally spike Dark’s paradoxical view on touch - being both touch-starved and aversive of it. He’d need to remedy this before the week was ruined, and fast.

-

After spending the night on the couch - no point making matters worse - Wilford had a brainwave as he looked out the window. It was snowing! They could go outside! If he needed to remind Dark about how the cold touches didn’t bother him, they needed to be outside. It took half the morning to pester Dark into going for a walk, but it was absolutely worth it the moment the front door closed.

First step of the plan - Wilford forgot his coat and winter accessories. As an entity so used to the cold, it wouldn’t cross Dark’s mind that this was a mistake.

Second step of the plan - make a snowman. This was a two-pronged tactic. Not only would it let the pair reconcile after their blunder the previous day, but it let Wilford dig his bare hands into the cold snow over and over again without drawing suspicion.

Throwing an odd glance Dark’s way, Wilford could see the small smile threatening to spread. Those violet eyes had a slight glimmer to them. Even if he wouldn’t break into a giddy mood, Wilford was confident the other was having a good time.

“I’m so used to staring out at the snow that I forgot what it was like to be out in it for a while,” mused the entity as Wilford put the final touches to Twigface the Snowman. “There’s a sense of tranquility I find here, like I can slip back into a simpler routine.” Even last night, Dark had chopped some firewood. He wouldn’t have the ability to chop a tree without being riddled in pain - nor would the campsite owners allow that - so it was a suitable alternative. “Mayhaps it’s that familiarity with death that draws me. Everything is dead, barren, bleak…”

“Refreshin’, white…” finished Wilford with a grin. “Y’know, I’m pretty sure it was Host that told me that things aren’t dead in winter. They’re asleep. Th’ trees can lose their leaves so they can get new ones fer th’ spring. Animals go ta sleep an’ keep cozy. As fer you?” Wilford climbed onto his feet with a chuckle. “Yer not death. Yer Dark. Sure, yer not as bubbly as someone like Mark, but wouldn’t life be borin’ if we were all th’ same? Ya keep me from floatin’ away, an’ I make _ya_ smile. Then my hands always…”

“Warm - _WILL!”_ Wilford, taking the distraction as opportunity, put both his ice-cold hands on Dark’s cheeks. Then, to the reporter’s surprise, Dark began to laugh, and covered the hands with his own. “You’re like ice.”

“As are you. I’ll stay out here all day if I get ta show ya how much I’ve missed holding yer hand since we got here.” That made Dark wise up to Wilford’s plan. While guilt lingered, he was disappointed in himself for not realising it sooner. He had let old worries get the better of him. That wasn’t fair on Wilford.

“Alright… If I bring you back inside so you can have a shower and warm up, I’ll let you hold my hand. Deal?”

“An’ cuddle ya in th’ fluffy blanket I brought?”

“And cuddle in the blanket, yes. It wouldn’t be a break if I didn’t take time to relax, would it? But, dear… Your cheeks are turning purple.”

That was more than enough for Wilford, who was quickly pulling Dark back toward the cabin. All he could feel was cold, but nothing was more comforting than the cold hands in his.


	2. Day Two: Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark remembers a time when the concept of him falling in love was impossible. But the past is not what the future is, and it requires a little support to help him see that.
> 
> TW: Implied conflicted internal homophobia (but it’s a happy ending!)

##  [ **“REALITY”** ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DRZRa6PNqxLg&t=ZWRkNjYwMzVjNTU0NmQ4NTJhNzlhYzRlYTAzZmQ0MDI5ZGFiOTk1ZSxsTWxpTjl1bQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ASOln55uvkgcIlpLv0a0lOA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fgottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185686080762%2Fdarkstache-day-2-past-and-present&m=1&ts=1596819431)

–

They say the truest form of loneliness is when you are in company. Damien would hasten to agree. Ever since he became Mayor, he felt isolated from everyone, and yet he was surrounded by more people than ever before. It was a bizarre reality he found himself in.

If he were to be honest with himself, it only became more apparent once he began attending formal functions as the City Mayor. The invitations always read “Mayor Brooks _plus one_ ”, yet he nearly always went alone. He was a very busy man, Damien would tell himself. He didn’t have time for love. While he would engage in polite conversation and socialise, Damien would find himself watching couples mingle or dancing on the floor. Ultimately, it would remind him of the cold reality that he refused to acknowledge - no woman really took his attention.

When he watched couples dance on the floor, it was the male partner that drew his eye. That neat, well-fitted look of a man in a suit was something a part of him longed to draw close to. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could never trick his foolish brain to do what a _normal_ man ought to and view the _woman_ in the same light. Of course he could see their beauty, of course he would compliment how fair and pretty they looked with utter sincerity; but it was impossible to imagine himself in a happy relationship with any lady he met.

Damien would never be able to love someone as he wanted to. That was his reality. The parties reminded him of this time and time again. They were far more sophisticated than the soirees Mark would host - Damien would often compare the formal events to games of chess. One wrong move and it would all be over in a flash. When conversing with other guests in groups, he would learn of rumours and stories of others in this ring of society that he was still adjusting to. A man was caught cheating on his wife, but instead of a mistress, it was another man. Two men living together for years were considered “a bit funny”, but no one could say for sure if it was true or not. Constant little reminders that if Damien was caught with another man, he would be publicly disgraced (without bearing to think of how it would affect his personal life). He had fought hard to get to his position and stay there by 27. As much as he wanted to be in a loving relationship, it just wasn’t worth the risk of losing absolutely everything.

He would insist he was too busy for love, that he “wasn’t looking”, or any excuse for someone not to try and find him a partner. He had so much love in his heart, but he loathed that part of himself. Why couldn’t he be like a normal man? Why couldn’t he have had his heart stolen by a charming young lady? Why did he have to be broken?

Even now, he was broken.

Physically broken. Emotionally broken. Not quite mentally broken, but certainly cracked.

It was the reality Dark lived in.

And yet… There was Wilford.

Wilford. That mysterious, wonderful man that was nothing like the soldier he used to be and simultaneously the exact same The man who could find the strangest ways to bring a smile to his face. It was so long ago now, Dark couldn’t remember if he had romantic feelings for William when he was Damien; but it was a fact he couldn’t ignore every time he looked at Wilford.

Speaking of, the reporter was staring at him rather intently.

“Somethin’s troublin’ ya.” Three simple words, and Wilford hit the nail on the head. Dark’s gaze shifted to the side, before he let out a slow sigh.

“Will… Do you this is all… Strange?” It was difficult to explain it. Frustration was clear on the entity’s scarred face.

“Everythin’s strange, sugar. That’s th’ beauty of life! A bitta madness goes a-”

“No, no. I mean us.”

“Us?” Wilford sounded hurt at that, and Dark internally scolded himself for being so inarticulate. He would only make matters worse if he kept dancing around the topic that had been troubling him all day.

“No, that’s not - Let me start over. I… Will, do you not find it a little strange that we - two beings who identify as male - are in a romantic relationship?” He lifted his hand to interrupt Wilford’s likely counter. His nerves began to fail, and he had to drop his eyes to the ground so he could attempt to continue. “It goes beyond what is considered the norm, and has so many… Risks.” It was strange. No matter how many times he had made this argument to himself, Dark couldn’t find the words to express his internal conflict. However, Wilford’s worry shifted to calm understanding as he pieced together what was going on in the other’s mind.

“You question why our relationship goes beyond the norms others have set?” Wilford asked for clarification. His voice lacked the normal drawl. Dark nodded. “Despite not raising an objection to this when I asked you out on our first date, you feel a little uncomfortable?” He waited for a response, and a long moment passed before Dark nodded. Shame radiated through the gentle glow of red and blue. The reporter reached out and put his hand on Dark’s shoulder. When there was no attempt to brush it off, he knew he was safe to continue.

“Dark… Do you love me?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“And I love you too. That’s all that matters.”

Dark finally braved looking up at Wilford, and at last he could see what was going on. Black was peppering that pink moustache. Those eyes held more resolve than ever before. His posture was slightly straighter than usual. It was as if the Colonel sensed the Mayor’s distress and was trying to reach out in his own way. As though acknowledging this, Wilford smiled.

“Love is love. It doesn’t matter what gender the other sees themselves as. It doesn’t matter what the world says. If you’re in a position where you can love, then love. You might have been taught that love can only be in a certain way, but things are different now. You and I… We’re just as valid as Mark and Amy, and no one can change that. You deserve love. Our friends supported both of us through this. I spent weeks trying to woo you. I’m not letting you slip away because of the fear of what others might think of you. Sometimes… A little risk reaps all the rewards you’ve ever wanted.”

Dark didn’t object when the larger man pulled him close for a tight hug. After all the thoughts of uncertainty and the memories associated with them, he felt grounded. He felt safe. And if a tear or two slipped down grey skin, neither would comment on it.

“I love you, Will,” he murmured against the other’s shirt.

“I love ya too, Dark.”

It was several minutes before either pulled back, though Dark didn’t leave the other’s hold. Wilford was back to normal. Black strands had faded into pink. Chocolate eyes gazed down with pure affection. The past had quietly slipped away to let the present shine bright, as was the right thing.

“You always know the wisest thing to say.”

“Ya think? ‘Cause Bim insists I’m a ‘feather-brained oaf’ after th’ time I cut all power ta th’ buildin’ when I tried ta connect my phone ta YouTube.”

Dark kept close to Wilford, listening to him ramble on about some scenario that belonged in a cartoon. In a romantic sense, his life in the 1920s was bleak. But that didn’t mean his life in the modern day had to be. If ever Dark was invited to an event, he always had Wilford as his ‘plus one’. Dark’s name was already tarnished by a shell of a man who stole his body. What more could he lose if people thought ill of him for loving a man? But even if only a handful of people knew of this relationship, they all supported him. Had he really been so worried that he never considered that?

Purple eyes lifted to meet chocolate ones. A smile was returned with just as much love. No matter what, he would have Wilford by his side.

_This was his reality._

For the first time, he was content with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [gottawriteanegoortwo](https://gottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com/post/185686080762/darkstache-day-2-past-and-present) and backdated to match that.


	3. Day Three: Dark's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dark's "birthday", and Wilford wants to do something perfect. Will all the planning and brainstorming be worth it in the end?

Today was a “Wilford works in his dressing room!” day, and a sign hastily written in marker and taped to the door said as much. Contrary to popular belief, his dressing room was also his office. It was located in the studio, but because “dressing-room-office” is too long, and “dressing-office” is too ridiculous for everyone except Wilford, “dressing room” would suffice.

I say this because said dressing room looked like a scene out of a cliché detective movie. Normally, it would be a large space with a dressing room set-up to the left, a comfortable suite of furniture and coffee table to the right, and a surprisingly elegant desk straight at the back. There was no window, but the room was always well-lit. The usual scene was nowhere to be found today. Sheets of paper were pinned up on all vertical surfaces, with red and blue strings tying pages together from across the room. Photos and diagrams were haphazardly pinned here and there. Pages littered the floor, making it invisible bar a neat clear trail from one end of the office to the other. But there, sitting in the middle of the mess with two pencils resting behind one ear, was Wilford. Some red string was tangled in his hair, and a shoe had vanished, but he gazed around the office in wonder. It had taken five straight hours and waking at four am, but at last! He was done!

Today was Dark’s birthday, and he intended to make the most of it!

Or rather, neither himself nor Dark had _actual_ birthdays. The days chosen were based on the first video they appeared in on Mark’s channel. Wilford was now a November baby; and Dark’s day was today, June 19th. But that didn’t matter! It was 10am, and Wilford had so much organising to do! The whiteboard opposite him had the entire to-do list. He had to buy balloons, bake a cake, get the Jims to decorate recording room number three, fetch the caterer for finger food, hire a DJ, get Google or Bing to get the best music around, make that life-size ice sculpture of Dark, make sure Dark’s present had arrived safely, _and_ do all of this without the birthday entity finding out!

It was going to be a challenge, but it would be so worth it!

With a stretch, Wilford rose to his feet to look for his missing shoe before setting off to work. He approached the desk… And paused. There was a framed photo that had been knocked back in the earlier chaos. It was a blown-up photograph from a photobooth session the pair had while at a winter fair. Wilford’s hands were on Dark’s hips, and the camera caught the perfect moment of Dark erupting into a fit of giggles. It was a side of Dark no one except him ever saw.

Then again, that was how Dark was, wasn’t it?

“I’d rather not deal with the unnecessary,” he would insist. “Just get to the point, Will,” he would interrupt.

Wilford glanced around the room again. Five hours of hard work and research. The fruits of his labour. But something was missing. A marker was grabbed as he went back to work.

* * *

“Will… What on earth is all of this?” Dark cautiously entered the dressing room, ducking to avoid a blue string suspended at eye level.

“Yer birthday plans, laid out in their glory fer ya ta see!” Wilford dramatically declared, gesturing outward with his hand. “Go on, explore the vast plans that were made fer ya!” He lingered near the door as Dark gingerly began to navigate the dressing room. Even from a distance, Wilford could tell what Dark was thinking. His hand brushed through his hair several times over the space of a few minutes. That meant he was trying to understand what he was reading. Dark’s posture straightened at one point, followed by a tilt of his head. He wasn’t impressed at what he was reading. But the biggest giveaway was how his hands fidgeted behind his back the more he progressed through the dressing room. He was uneasy, and likely uncomfortable with the ideas presented in grand scribbles and blueprints. Then, at last, Dark read the whiteboard with the final plan. This was Wilford’s cue to approach.

“Sooo~?”

“Will, it’s, well…”

“Ya don’t like it, do ya?” He could see the way a trace of guilt appeared on the face of the entity many feared. It was, in Dark’s mind, still impolite to actually admit disliking something another made for you. Thankfully, Wilford was no fool.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful birthday boy. I knew ya wouldn’t, so I started again. Behold!” The whiteboard was spun around to reveal more writing on the back. Surprisingly, there were only two words on it:

**Picnic.**

**Notebook.**

Dark stared at it like it was a deep, philosophical riddle while Wilford stepped around the board. A moment passed before he reemerged on the other side so he was now on Dark’s left. A basket and cooler bag were in his hands, while a large blanket was draped over his shoulder.

“I thought y’d rather a quiet picnic out by that tree yer fond of. Just you, me, an’ whatever sorta weather wants ta join us. I’m prepared fer anythin’.” Relief was clear as day on Dark’s face. “Wait wait, can ya open th’ lid of th’ basket fer a sec?” Wilford gestured to the basket with his head, just in case Dark was confused. The prompt worked, and the lid was opened so Dark could find…

“A notebook?” Slowly, he reached in to lift it out. It was small, maybe twenty pages at most, bound with fake leather that had been dyed crimson. The imprint of leaves were the subtle decoration on the cover. It felt nice to brush his thumb over them. Opening the notebook, the first page was a message written in blank ink instead of Wilford’s normal choice of magenta:

> _Dark,_
> 
> _Sometimes I can’t tell you how much I care for you. I know we have our differences. I know you have plans you want to achieve that I still don’t understand, and you can be pretty terrifying when things don’t go your way… But I want you to be able to read this when you think you’re alone, or if we’ve had a fight, or if I’m not there for you._
> 
> _I am there. Closer than you ever think. You have my heart._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Wilford._

As Dark began flipping through the pages, he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. Why was Wilford so good at finding those emotions he had long buried away? Each page had photos, quotes, cut out snippets of statements of love, even the odd picture of a crow. A lot of thought went into this, and love poured out of every page. Once the book was closed, the entity hurried over to wrap his arms around the reporter and hug him tightly. Dark hardly ever instigated hugs. That showed how much the gift meant to him.

“Thank you, Will… This is perfect.”

“Happy birthday, Dark.”

The pair would have a delightful picnic. Clouds would stay away so they could enjoy the sunset together. Then, on that quiet day in mid-September, when Dark would feel most melancholic, Wilford would reveal the last part of his birthday present: a silver necklace with a pink diamond heart. If ever Dark needed assurance that Wilford loved him, all he need do was look at how a symbol of the other’s heart hung around his neck and read the words declaring as much in that treasured notebook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [gottawriteanegoortwo](https://gottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com/post/185709253072/darkstache-day-three-darks-birthday) and backdated to match that.


	4. Day Four: Strange Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark is sick. Wilford wants to be the supportive boyfriend, but ends up taking the longest, most convoluted route to Dark’s room when he wakes somewhere different.
> 
> Timeline shenanigans ahead!

When Wilford woke, slumped on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar studio, he knew he had fallen out of time again. Normally, this would be exciting, but not today. Dark had been unwell the previous day and had been getting worse. In times like these, Wilford was the only company he wanted. Leaving the entity alone could cause trouble if the wrong Ego aggravated him!

“Wilford. Are you sleeping on the job again?”

The voice made Wilford snap his head in the direction of the source. There stood Dark, but it wasn’t _his_ Dark. This one had no tie, a shirt spread out enough to emphasise his collarbone, and an unbuttoned shirt. The style was far more casual than what his Dark would wear. His black hair fell haphazardly over his left eye. He stood with the right build and Wilford presumably guessed it was the right height too, but it wasn’t the right Dark. The distinctive crack-like scar across the left cheek was missing. This Dark glared down on him with a bemused expression, and it dawned on Wilford that he had yet to reply.

“Oh, uh… Yup! Super busy mornin’. Lemme just grab my, uh, coat in th’ office.” Before this Dark could question why Wilford would possibly need a coat during a heat wave, Wilford scrambled onto his feet and dashed into the nearest room - the bathroom. A quick glance around the tiny bathroom revealed a cupboard. Channeling his inner Dorothy, he pulled it open, stepped inside, and stumbled out of a closet in a boardroom. It looked as generic and bland as any boardroom in any timeline he had ever visited, so it was an impossible measure of whether he was home. He was grateful that the coast was clear (he already interrupted a board meeting before during one of these escapades. Never again!) and made his way to the door. As he glanced outside the boardroom, the wall opposite him was a dull white as opposed to a dull cream. That was proof that he was in the wrong timeline again. Just as he was about to pull his head back inside, voices caught his attention and he peered to his left.

A man and a woman were looking at something one of them had dropped. The woman was dressed in a free-flowing, yet incredibly sophisticated, black dress. Her black hair was swept over to the right with the tips of the fringe fading to red. Interestingly, there was a faint glow of red and blue around her as she made sure the man was okay. Was she ‘Dark’? As for the man… In all the timeline-hopping Wilford has done, he had never seen someone like that man. He was around the same height as the woman, and wore a sky-blue waistcoat with black suit trousers, both of which were complimented with a white shirt. His hair - dyed the same blue as his clothes - was also brushed to the right, but seemed to have curls in it. The large, blue-tinted round glasses only added to the intriguing look. She was charming, he was adorable; and in another point in time Wilford would have let himself get caught to meet both. However, the entity who had his heart was ill and needed him. He darted back into the cupboard just as the boardroom door opened.

The door is opened again, and he is immediately greeted by the sight of a Dark turning to face him. The creature - for this was clearly no human - gave an unnaturally wide grin before reaching a clawed hand to try and grab him. The door was rapidly slammed. That was **certainly** not his Dark!

He had to take a moment to calm down after that scare. While Wilford was one to roll with any and all unusual turns of events, seeing a distortion of his boyfriend was never something that he can get used to. With a shaky breath, he reluctantly opened the door and nervously poked his head out. Tension slipped out of his body the moment he recognised the office. This was Dark’s office, but it was still the wrong timeline. However, this was the one he dubbed the “nearly mine” timeline. It was the one he liked visiting when he needed to get advice. As far as he could tell, there were only minor differences between the two times. For example, the offices were nearly identical, but this one had extra additions to accommodate a cat. Said cat - a silver tabby with nearly-golden eyes - bounded over to the door of the office and mewled at the familiar stranger. She caught the attention of her owner, and he threw a dismissive glance Wilford’s way as he finished what he was writing.

This Dark looked like a college professor, something Wilford made sure to call him. His three-piece suit was impeccable, and the burnt umber tie added to the ‘vintage’ look he was trying to recreate. His hair was cut tight, bar the fringe that was combed neatly to the left. The entity’s pale purple eyes glanced up at the Wilford before him again, and a small smile appeared.

“Rose,” he greeted calmly with the nickname Wilford used to prevent confusion. “I was beginning to think you had gotten better at not falling through time.” The timeline-hopper gave a ‘guilty as charged’ shrug.

“I’d love ta stay an’ chat, Prof, but I gotta get home. My Dark’s sick an’ I don’t wanna leave him alone.” The other Dark gave a sympathetic look, knowing the saga Wilford had to go through to start that relationship in the first place. Giving a salute, Wilford turned and put his hand on the door handle. A knock on the desk made him spin back around in confusion.

“You know you will only continue going in circles if you haphazardly force yourself into different times. You told me as much, remember?” Wilford nodded slowly, and Dark took this as an incentive to continue. “Before you open the door, focus all your thoughts on where you want to be. Ground yourself, and you will return home safely. Good luck, Rose.” The pair exchanged a smile before Wilford turned his attention to the door. A deep breath was his motivation to imagine Dark’s bedroom, where the entity would hopefully be resting. He visualised the way Dark would smile up at him once realising Wilford was there. With nothing but his partner on his mind, Wilford opened the door and bravely stepped through.

It was carefully closed behind him as Wilford entered the familiar room. To his immense relief, bundled under several blankets, was _**his**_ Dark. Kicking off his shoes, Wilford crept toward the bed while taking off the bow tie. As he drew closer, there was movement under the blankets. The shivering mass underneath stirred awake and groggily rolled over to figure out who had entered.

Dark’s violet eyes were half-lidded as he tried to recognise the intruder with his half-asleep mind. His medium-length black hair was tousled, yet the light waves looked as impeccable as always. The normal traces of glowing lights were dim to mirror how low Dark felt while sick. But most importantly, the white scar on his left cheek that resembled broken glass was clear as day. It scrunched up slightly as that smile Wilford had visualised came to life.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” Wilford felt a pang in his heart as he heard the way Dark croaked. He sat at the edge of the bed and brushed some loose strands out of Dark’s face.

“I’m sorry, my sickly shadow. I got a little lost on my way here, but I’m here now. I’m not leavin’.” That last sentence was enough for Dark to move again so he could open the nest of blankets as an invitation for Wilford to climb in and join him. Before long, the pair were dozing in the other’s arms: safe, sound, and secure in this timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [gottawriteanegoortwo](https://gottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com/post/185731890637/darkstache-day-4-strange-encounters) and backdated to match that.
> 
> All but the very first Dark are actually versions of Dark I had written to that point. The female Dark and man in blue are my role reversal: a Celine!Dark and a Damien pushed over the brink between guilt and having his memory wiped. I don't have much chance to write him, but I love him nonetheless.


	5. Day Five - AU (Merfolk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Darkiplier and Wilford are merkfolk that have recently called the North-West Pacific Marine Park home. Rather than a clear narrative, this piece takes the form of a research log obtained during the research of the newest residents.
> 
> North-West Pacific Marine Park is a plot of sea along the north-west coast that is dedicated to the preservation and research of wildlife in the area. Under the read-more are research notes obtained regarding the two merfolk that have called the Park home - Rose the red lionfish, and Dark the dusty shark/betta fish hybrid.

Our research into the two merfolk who have taken up residence in the cove on the edge of the North West Pacific Marine Park has been going excellently. We have learned a lot about the two mermen and their personalities.

The first we met was a red lionfish merman we have called Rose due to the pinkness of his stripes. Out of the two, he is the most inquisitive. Myself and my team believe he is doing his own research of us. We have been able to learn a lot about him by offering to swap things, such as shed scales for some strands of hair. His spines are retractable, mostly used in intimidation factors or when he wants to show off. Out of the two, he is the “hunter”. He gets a thrill in chasing fish into a panicked frenzy. Not only that, his spines can be pulled out to throw if needed. A strange evolutionary tactic, but they grow back fairly fast.

The second is Dark, named after his tendency to hide in the shadows during early encounters. It took a long time for us to earn his trust, and I firmly believe that Rose was the only reason we succeeded. If Dark had insisted he didn’t like us, Rose may have turned against us. Dark appears to have feet resemblance to a dusty shark, with the frills of what may possibly be a betta fish. It is my belief that Dark was an attempt in making either a ‘pet’ or a 'show piece’ that escaped or was dumped with the intention of him dying in the wild. There are several white claw marks across his left cheek from what may have been a battle long before he came here. Dark tends to sit back and watch when we visit, not interested in interacting unless we approach first. He is incredibly intelligent and enjoys when we bring him puzzles to solve. When hunting, Dark takes a more passive role. He uses his voice to sing and lure fish in. We think the frequencies in the water attract them and make them docile, as there is less of a scare when he or Rose strike out. He also nearly drew my assistant Eric into the water when Dark directed the singing at him to prove a point of what he can lure.

Both can understand our language, and Rose appears to be making attempts to mimic phrases we say. “Hello, handsome” is his favourite sentence to parrot. He and Melissa, one of the interns had what she called a “meaningful conversation” using just that phrase.

For the longest time, we were confused as to why two merfolk who should be in warmer waters were this far north. We did believe they were seeking mates, but that turned out to be farther from the truth. In fact, they are a mated couple who were just looking for somewhere quiet to live.

During one of our routine checks of the birds that nest along the cliffs, we heard singing coming from the cove and managed to approach without being noticed. The singing, to our surprise, was Rose. He was perched on one of the rocks beside Dark, hands locked together. The melody was calming, but when it finished, Dark slipped into the water. At first, we thought it was something for entertainment, but then Dark began to sing the same tune. The pair were soon singing in harmony, something only merfolk who can sing do when courting, and Rose slipped into the water to join his mate. They embraced in a surprisingly human manner, to the extent of Dark kissing Rose and resting his head on the lionfish’s shoulder, with their tails intertwined.

Some time after that, Dark was the one who made this fact known to us. I suspect it was his way of expressing trust in us, but he took Rose’s hand in his own and kissed him on the 'nose’ before turning back to us. When I asked if they were in love, the pair swapped a look and nodded. They were almost like teenagers with their shy response. Melissa did notice Dark was wearing the plastic bead bracelet she gave Rose in return for one of his spines, so we have taken that as proof that merfolk partake in giving gifts to their mate. When we asked about it, Dark excused himself and swam off. Rose put his hands over his cheeks and shook his head in the gesture of “shy” that we taught him, followed by a laugh.

For now, we hope to observe the pair behaving naturally as a couple. We intend to encourage Rose to learn how to speak so we can communicate with him in an easier manner, as well as teaching him simple actions to convey answers to questions. We also hope to help Dark learn to trust us and show him that we don’t mean him any harm.

* * *

BONUS: A visual guide for the merfolk. Wilford (Rose) the lionfish on the left, Dark the dusty shark/betta fish hybrid on the right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [gottawriteanegoortwo](https://gottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com/post/185755516612/darkstache-week-day-5-au-merfolk-aka-i-had-old) and backdated to match that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow on from _[Day Two: Past and Present](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25768144/chapters/62582581)_.
> 
> Dark might be a being who is of an unknown age, but he still seems a little unnerved about their relationship. Wilford takes advantage of Pride taking place in the city to show him how things have changed.
> 
> Love is Love.

“C’moooon, Dark! It’s a lovely day out! We can’t spend it in heere!”

“I’m not going outside. I can’t, Will.”

A familiar argument the pair have had ever since Dark admitted he was a little uneasy about their relationship as a couple. Wilford would insist that going out on a date would normalise things, but Dark seemed overly aware of people staring at them and what their reactions might be. However, Wilford was set on this task.

“C’mon. Just a walk. Nothin’ overly extravagant. We can go get ice-cream, have a little wander in th’ park, then walk home. We’ll be gone barely two hours. Deal?” He needed to get Dark into the city. The Pride festivities were taking place today, like some sort of miracle that might help Dark see that being in a same-sex relationship wasn’t the end of the world. Of course, he didn’t dare tell Dark this. He instead waited for Dark to give a response. The entity’s stern gaze was focused on Wilford, before it soon dropped into a sigh.

“… Fine. Let me get my coat.”

By the time the pair were leaving, Wilford was holding a small rucksack filled with various Pride accessories just in case this worked, but covered them with a large bottle of water and a plain scarf. They chatted casually as they strolled into the heart of the city. Dark had noticed the large amount of young people hanging around, but said nothing. It was only when they passed a rainbow flag did he speak up. He held back to look at it. The breeze had picked up enough to let the flag fly with gusto.

“That’s the fourth one of those I’ve seen on our way here.” Wilford, who had only noticed the absence when Dark spoke up, turned on his heel to go back.

“Pretty sure it’s a summer thing,” he lied. “Y’know, because ya see more rainbows when th’ weather’s nice?” It was a flimsy story, but it seemed to work, and Dark continued on the path with a comment about how it would be more fitting in winter when there was a distinct lack of colour.

There was a crowd at the ice cream parlour, and Wilford was afraid it would be enough to deter Dark. Yet, by some miracle, the bribe of chocolate ice cream was enough to keep Dark there. In fact, as they walked to the park, Wilford couldn’t help but notice how content Dark was. This might be the best time for Dark to experience Pride - before the chaos truly set in.

One of the main walkways in the park had been taken over for the day. There were stalls on both sides - snacks, handmade crafts, face paint, among other things - went as far as the eye could see. Wondering if it was a summer fair, Dark approached one of the artist’s stalls to admire their work. The artist noticed the couple, as well as the lack of accessories, and was about to open her mouth to say something. As though sensing this, Wilford whipped out a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and, without Dark seeing, flashed it to her and tilted his head in Dark’s direction. It had one simple word: **“Closeted”**. Her eyes widened and she nodded in understanding.

“Hey, you know… You look like you need a little colour today,” she piped up with a smile. “I’ve been giving these out for free to people who’ve dropped by.” Before Dark could question her, a set of rainbow beads were put around his head. “There’s gonna be a lot going on today, but I hope you have a nice time. Remember to take lots of photos!” A matching set was given to Wilford, and the pair set off. Once they were far enough away, Dark turned to Wilford with a look of suspicion.

“You know more than you’re letting on. What is actually going on? There’s something you’re…” He trailed off. Two men walked out of a nearby coffee stand. They had a cup in one hand and their free hands were linked together. One man - who had a rainbow flag painted on his cheek - leaned over and quickly kissed the other on the lips before they carried on. Dark watched the exchange with a thousand thoughts running through his mind. There was no fuss about the action. No drama. No fear of being scorned. He glanced to the side and made his way to a bench where he could just observe. Wilford followed silently.

The longer the pair stayed there, the more Dark saw. People of the same sex acting as normal couples. Individuals who appeared to be dressed as the opposite gender (Wilford had leaned over and whispered something about ‘drag queens’). People who were prancing around like flamboyant peacocks. People who were shy and withdrawn, but with supportive friends. They all had various coloured combinations, but nearly all of them had that rainbow flag on their person.

“… Those flags have nothing to do with summer, do they?”

“Nope.”

“So what do they mean?”

Wilford turned his head to look at the entity. It was like the day that had started him on this quest to help Dark understand that this side of him was okay. He couldn’t back down now.

“This is a Pride festival. It’s a day where folks of th’ LGBT Community - er, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, an’ many others that I’ll explain later - come out an’ celebrate who they are. Was originally a bunch of protests, an’ many use it ta look fer equal rights. Days like these have helped raise awareness, an’ this whole month has been Pride Month.” The rucksack was slipped off his shoulders so Wilford could pull out two pins. They were enamel flags. He pointed to the one with pink, yellow, and blue bands on it.

“This one here is th’ Pansexual flag. That’s what I am. It means that I am attracted ta people regardless of their gender or any other factors.” Next, the second pin, with a rainbow flag. “An’ this is th’ Gay flag. It’s th’ symbol of Pride itself, but it’s also fer men who are attracted to those of th’ same gender… As I believe you are.” This was a sensitive topic, and Wilford was very careful to gauge Dark’s reaction. That reminder from Doc on making sure he didn’t “cross a line” was certainly working wonders. “I-I know this is a lot fer ya. I know ya probably hate me fer lyin’ but… I wanted ya ta see this. Sure, things ain’t perfect, an’ we gotta long way ta go before it’s all equal, but yer not alone. We can head back if ya don’t wanna stay, an’ I can promise not ta bring it up again. Just know… It’s yer choice.”

Dark’s eyes fell to the two pins in Wilford’s hand. There was so much to take in right now. All the fear and strain and isolation from nearly a century ago bubbled in the back of his mind like some kettle left too long on the stove. He wanted to rise up, scold Wilford for not taking his experiences into account and that he ought to know better… But how could he? Wilford was doing what he thought was best, and in as mindful a way as possible. They were two in a small crowd. No one was staring. No one was judging. That young lady had given him a set of rainbow beads for no reason other than he went to examine her wares.

He lifted one pin - the Pansexual one - and reached over to gently attach it to Wilford’s suspenders. It suited him (of course it did). His hand then dropped to Wilford’s and slowly curled it up. Whatever fears Wilford had faded when Dark flashed a smile overrun with nerves.

“Could you put it on me?”

* * *

They stayed out three hours instead of two. The pair watched the parade from a distance as Dark was a little overwhelmed with how much was going on. A young man with a rainbow flag tied around his neck like a superhero approached and nervously asked Dark to put out his right hand. When he did so, a stamp was placed on his wrist, leaving behind a neat, rainbow-coloured heart. Once Dark had his heart literally on his sleeve, he began to open up a little more. He took Wilford’s hand in his as they watched the end of the parade. Then, before they began the walk home, he kissed the reporter in public. He had never done that before. People cheered, and the entity was somewhat emotional at that positive response.

Only one photo was taken over the whole day. A selfie of the couple. The pins and beads were on display as Dark kissed Wilford’s cheek. It was simple, yet alive with love and colour. Once the photo was saved on his phone, it became Dark’s wallpaper so he’d always have that reminder that things were not as bleak as they once were for him.

Love is love, and he has the chance to experience it for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [gottawriteanegoortwo](https://gottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com/post/185776635482/darkstache-day-six-pride) and backdated to match that.


	7. Day Seven - Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, flowers are a sweet way to show your affection for someone. This fic looks at one time Wilford bought Dark flowers, and one time Dark did likewise.

Wilford didn’t have a proper conversation with Dark in a full week. In times like these, arranging a dinner date in Wilford’s apartment was the only way the reporter could make sure the entity was okay. After considering it for half the day, he made his way to the nearby florist. The moment he entered, the young owner of the store laughed, brushing their sunset-dyed hair out of their eyes.

“Ah, that’s the sight of someone who’s is trouble~” They teased, grabbing some wrap for the outside of the bouquet that would likely be ordered. “What did you do this time, Warfy?”

“Fer once, nothin’! I’ve barely seen him all week so I wanna make sure he’s okay.” Wilford sauntered into the middle of the store, taking the wide array of flowers into consideration.

“The usual forty dollar bouquet?” The florist called over as they fetched some red roses - the staple of every bouquet Wilford bought. “Have you a colour scheme in mind?” By now, the reporter had begun plucking an array of colourful flowers.

“I’m thinkin’ some colours ta make things less gloomy. Maybe some yellow roses too ta spice things up?” As much as Wilford liked flowers, the ability to arrange them into a neat bouquet was something he couldn’t quite master. Instead, he always enjoyed watching the florist do the work for him! Just as they were finishing up, Wilford’s attention drifted and was caught by something behind them.

“Wait, wait…” He trailed off, pushing away from the counter and walking toward the flowers on display. They were small, white flowers that almost looked like scrunched up tissue paper. “These… I feel like I’ve seen these before.”

“They’re called ‘carnations’,” the florist explained with a smile. Their head poked around the reporter as they lifted one. “White ones go well with any display, in my opinion. Should I add some in?” When Wilford nodded, the florist lifted several blooms and added them in as the final touch to the rainbow arrangement. Wilford brushed his thumb across one bloom. It certainly seemed familiar, and the idea of pinning one against Dark’s suit jacket seemed perfect.

Even if Dark was associated with monochromatic settings with glimpses of red and blue, Wilford saw him as the rainbow breaking through after a storm. Life always seemed to make more sense with Dark there. Dark was the reason his world had more colour to it, that presence more than enough to bring peace to Wilford’s chaotic and unpredictable life. Dark was why Wilford made an effort to know what day and year it was; why he wrote in diaries to remember what they went through together, in case his memory faltered and let things slip through the cracks. The red roses in the middle symbolised Dark himself, and the colours spread out from there to show how one individual can have such an influence on another

* * *

Dark was tired. Yet despite it all, Wilford would always try and do what he could to cheer the entity up. Even when Dark would snap and order the reporter to leave, he would eventually return like a puppy who didn’t understand what was going on but wanted to love their owner anyway.

It was only when Wilford didn’t return after one such moment did Dark realise how he messed up. He would need to apologise. He was trying to encourage Wilford to eat better, so chocolates or alcohol were out of the question. Flowers were always a safe bet when he was the Mayor, and maybe it would be a safe bet now.

The small flower shop was empty when Dark stepped in. The older lady, who owned the premise with her husband, smiled at the familiar customer.

“Dante,” she greeted him warmly. “I don’t believe there are any orders for you or your work here.” Dark shook his head as he approached the counter.

“I was actually hoping if you would be able to arrange a bouquet for me. I… owe someone an apology.” A neatly folded up piece of paper was pulled out of his pocket. The list was skimmed one last time while waiting for the florist. Instead of reading it, he simply passed the page over to her. “I know you might not have all of these, but I will try and think of something else.”

“Not to worry, pet. You never know what we have in stock here. You wait here. I won’t be long~” With a little wag of her finger, she set off to work. It took fifteen minutes, and one long search in the back, but she managed to create a bouquet of everything Dark had requested - purple hyacinths, red carnations, red tulips, red chrysanthemum, red roses, white violets, and red poppies. As she wrapped a white ribbon around it, she giggled softly to herself.

“You’re giving him quite the letter, Dante.” She took the way his eyebrows raised as proof that she was right. “ _‘I’m sorry. My heart aches for you, and please believe me. I love you, I love you, so let’s take a chance on happiness’._ ” Each flower was pointed to as she explained it. “But I can’t understand the purpose of the poppies.” As Dante pulled out his credit card, a small smile graced his lips.

“He doesn’t know the language of flowers, but they say more than I can ever dare to. As for the poppies? They’re an important flower for him.”

Dark knew how woefully underprepared he was for love, no matter how much he had yearned for it. Sometimes he could act out and risk losing it all, but that was a fate he didn’t dare consider. Wilford meant the **world** to him. He felt the most human since he had been a Mayor, and it was all because of Wilford. He could see there was more to life than getting revenge. He was learning about parts of himself that he had almost forgotten about - the love of listening to music, reading, gardening, dancing. He had someone by his side when his body was struggling with various phantom pains from all the injuries from the Actor and DA’s bodies, and that even switching bodies couldn’t erase. Wilford was always there for him with items of warmth, medication, and physical comfort. Even on weeks like these, when any frustration Dark felt was redirected at the reporter, Wilford never strayed too far. How foolish would the entity be to let someone as perfect as that pass? He would swallow his pride and apologise over and over again if it meant that his fear of losing Wilford never came true.

* * *

Dark almost cancelled the date. The ribbon on the bouquet was nervously brushed with his thumb to try and keep him somewhat grounded. He had knocked the door, but there was no sign of Wilford yet. The reporter was normally quick to answer, so the delay was certainly not bringing forth any confidence. Several minutes passed, and Dark took a half-step back to leave.

_The door opened._

“Dark! I am so sorry!” There was soot all over Wilford’s face. “I had ta stop a ragin’ cake from takin’ over th’ oven.” Part of his apron was used to wipe the soot away, and it was only then he noticed the giant bouquet in the entity’s hands. The flowers were mostly red, with a little dash of purple and white, and looked rather pretty. It was hard to read Wilford’s expression, and Dark’s heart plummeted to his stomach when Wilford began to laugh and pulled him inside before the entity could slip away. He brought Dark into the kitchen, dashed into the living room, and returned with…. A bouquet of his own. The rainbow one that he had helped make earlier that day. A grin as bright as a summer’s day was on Wilford’s face as he let Dark take in the baffling coincidence. At last, dread slipped away and a smile began to spread on Dark’s face.

“I thought ya, well, needed a little thing ta cheer ya up after yer stressful week.” Wilford gestured to the multicoloured array in his arms.

“I wanted to apologise for how awful I have been to you this week.” Dark tilted his own flowers slightly toward Wilford, before putting them on the nearby table. His eyes were drawn to the colourful display picked just for him. “Will… They’re beautiful. After how I’ve behaved, I don’t deserve this.”

“But ya do, my little doubtin’ darkness. Everyone has good an’ bad days. An’ if ya have these in yer office, then ya can remember that there’s more ta life than th’ work ya find yerself doin’.” Once the multi-coloured flowers were out of his hands, Wilford leaned down to kiss Dark’s forehead, before pulling out a white carnation and carefully placing it behind Dark’s ear.

“I knew it would look perfect on ya,” he murmured, though he was cut off by Dark reaching to the bouquet he bought so he could slip a poppy through a loose buttonhole. A cold hand then reached up to smooth that pink moustache.

“You are perfect. Far more perfect than anything I could have ever expected… My blossom.” That pet-name was enough for Wilford to put the bouquet aside and pull the entity into his arms for a tight embrace.

By the time Dark was going home, both had a bouquet of flowers. However, the two sets had been mixed together. It seemed fitting that the flowers ought to be rearranged to make the boldest statement in the language of flowers - both are spectacular by themselves, but the true beauty of Dark and Wilford is how much better they are when they can be together.

* * *

Bonus: [Which flowers represented what in Dark’s message.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fthelanguageofflowers.com%2F&t=ZWVmNzk4YWFjOTIyNzk5ZmFiM2FmZjU1ODBlZjIxMWU5NWYzZTFkYyxmZElXZ3dGZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ASOln55uvkgcIlpLv0a0lOA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fgottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F185799612402%2Fdarkstache-day-7-flowers&m=1&ts=1596825095)

Purple hyacinth - I am sorry  
Red carnation - my heart aches for you  
Red tulip - believe me  
Red chrysanthemum - love  
Red rose - love you  
White violets - let’s take a chance on happiness  
(Red poppy - pleasure) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [gottawriteanegoortwo](https://gottawriteanegoortwo.tumblr.com/post/185661537762/darkstache-day-one-winter) and backdated to match that.


End file.
